YOUR FIRST CLUE

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

Da people dey drive up
to da Bobo's Restaurant.
Dey get outta dere car
and dey waddle inside. 
Later, dey waddle out da door
and back to dere car.
All da people at da Bobo's
dey be waddlin.

Hmmm...You tink dey be servin 
HEALTH food in dere?

I never been inside da Bobo's
and dey say don't judge a book
by its cover
but you know 
if it look like a duck
and waddle like a duck...

One day drivin past da Bobo's
I overhear da waddlers
and dey say:  "Dem Bobo's cheeseboigas...
dey to DIE for!"

quack 
quack 

SEE NO EVIL

d'Verse Poets Pub

d

The married woman
does not want to watch the porn
on the television in our room
at the No-Tel motel
even though we have come here
to enact a similar scene

There are mirrors on the ceiling
above the bed
but she is careful not to look up

The married woman
does not want to see 
her own
reflection
at all



Note: Before your jaw drops any further, this poem was written quite a number of years ago, and I'm sharing it here for the first time now.

SECOND GUESS

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

this ole place has done
'bout all the damage
it can do to me

at long last

the ghosts of
3 dogs
4 cats
and 1 woman
are all that's gonna
skulk around here

in the quiet of the moon

one disappeared into
the desert
and one languished too long
but most I put down
when their time was at hand

'cept for the woman

who also languished too long
and then disappeared into
the desert

years gone like they
were just passin' through
nomads
on the way
to a bigger watering hole

but those sunny days
that wash over you like
the womb
create a deceptively cheery glow
bidding you to second guess
your feelings
each step of the way

and so today
I locked 'er up
and turned the key

there was a spider
restin' bold
and pretty
on the middle of the door
and I smiled
and said
go in peace
my brother

SILENCE BETWEEN THE SMILES

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--dVerse Poets Pub

Slanted plane of window light.
Melted road tar.
Clouds in the shape of Madagascar.
Random stabs at a keyboard.

Oh
do come in please
and we shall schedule you for
summary execution...
unless, of course, you'd rather not--
in which case you are free to
have tea and crumpets
and be on your way--
we do so aim to please.

Life
from within its own murky maze
is a story best read between the lines.
The silence between the smiles
speaks of its halting uncertainty.

Mistress gazes at the wife's picture
and asks do you love her?
Her eyes blink on and off.
Do lies equal kindness?

A man stays with a woman
not out of a sense of loyalty
but out of a sense of continuity.
Change what intrigues him about you
(like your hair, maybe)
and he may not be out the door,
but he'll be slipping out the back window
meeting a short order cook
in short order.

Riding the curve on a ripple.
Legions of dark delights.
Your eyes are divine
like fine boxed wine.

In the autumn I will turn over a new leaf.

GADZOOKS--an ancient evil awakens!
I draw my sword...
m'lady demurs
and buys my false bravado.
They just want someone
to slay the dragon
or at least wave that thing around menacingly.  

Belief without evidence.

Yet some still say "Your Majesty"
to another human being and
manage it with a straight face.

Kilimanjaro--that's majesty.
An old lady sitting on the crapper
 in a funny hat
 she never takes off,
 well...

TIMOTEO'S TALES OF A MISSPENT YOUTH

d'Verse Poets Pub

CEDAR RAPIDS (south side)

Ebony bodies

in the black night,

swaying to the beat.

Just me and Bill...

two sets of blue eyes

in a sea of brown.

In the wrong place

at the wrong time.

We might as well wear signs

that say DYNAMITE.

Would you like to dance, white boys?

Well, you're too lovely to resist,

and Bill knows lots of these cats--

grew up around here, he did.

Nothing to worry about.

Holding her now--

but from the corner of my eye

I see the switchblade gleaming,

reflecting neon. Angry words

cut through the stolid air.

Are you talkin' to me?

The powder keg ignites.

The whole joint explodes.

Brothers fighting brothers,

some trying to get us, others shouting

"No man, leave 'em alone!"

A fist slams against my temple,

winning my attention. The agitated

dude with the blade is stalking Bill.

It's happening too fast to think.

Then, out of nowhere,

the hand of an ally--

or an angel--

grabs mine. I am pulled,

nearly dragged,

through the confusion.

I stumble into the starry night,

and hearing the sirens approach,

I am filled with a sense of dread

that Bill has gotten the worst of it.

THE SEASON

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

It only means something if you have a warm place to lay your head
It only means something if you are no longer numb
It only means something if there is someone
It only means something if that someone means something
It only means something if you're not holding a grudge
It only means something if you can swallow your pride
It only means something if you see you're not the only one who's been hurt
It only means something if you can stop pointing fingers
It only means something if you can finish a sentence without "Yeah... BUT"
It only means something if you don't have to be right
It only means something if you grasp that  we won't get this moment back
It only means something if you meet each other half way
It only means something if you do this before it all passes you by again

It only means something if you open that door

OH DARLING, WILL YOU BE MAYAN?

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

We stand in the antechamber
of the apocalypse
surrounded by the changing
faces of love.

Jennifer gets a boob job
then wonders why men
don't appreciate her mind
.
Amy is stressed because the guy
she met through a personal ad
is getting too personal.

David has fallen head over heels for a 350 pound drag queen
who is posing as a petite nineteen year old blonde online.

Men are women
and women are men--
one's from Mars
and one's from Venus
but it's getting harder to tell
who's got the penis.

Spice Girls on the BBC
were playful
even impish
tucked inside their gowns so skimpish
but for America they wore their attitude
posturing for the average dude
who stands on the corner crying
I AM THE MISSING LINK
DON'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK
ME AND MY KIN WE LIVE IN THE TREES
PICK MY NITS AND I'LL PLUCK YOUR FLEAS!

Old gent greets the Avon lady
in the doorway with his joystick in hand
inside the house his wife chirps:
pay him no mind, dear...he's only keeping it up
for appearances sake!

And love was simple when it was
like a jackhammer penetrating your indifference
like a lumberjack chipping away at your resistance
like a finger on your trigger
like a ditch digging its digger

And in retrospect my life has been
a blue blur of contradiction
a rolling juggernaut of misjudgment
charging headlong through the rain
and pissing into the wind
a constellation of calamity
chasing dust devil dreams
down a star-speckled highway
in a last ditch attempt
to catch the champagne night flight
to Nirvana.

Still, I've never wanted to be anyone else--
just in a different game
cavorting with the Duchess of York
getting a grip on those love handles
and holding on for dear life before
she starts her next diet

And I kiss the ASS of  the sixties
for allowing me to stand here before you today--
spitting on your false piety,
your nightmare dream of polite society--
brains lobotomized
and our butts in a Singapore sling.

I kiss the ass of Ginsberg, Burroughs, and Ferlinghetti
I kiss the ass of  Lenny Bruce
and everyone who spoke the truth

We stand in the antechamber of the apocalypse
.or so they say...
But remember Y2K?
it was just another day

So don't run for the hills
no, that would be WACK
cuz you'll be back
TO GRAB SANTA'S SAC!!!  

SIGN OF THE TIMES

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

There once was a time
when people were of a mind
to speak their minds,
and "a penny for your thoughts"
was thought to be a fair exchange.

But we're all playing it mighty close
to the vest these days,
and dealing with the truth
is no penny-ante proposition.

Now most of us aren't deaf
and most of us aren't dumb
but nonetheless half of us can't speak
and the other half can't hear...
so we've come to rely upon
what is known as the sign language of love.

Some of the signs are round
and some of them are square
but the most important ones to remember are:
STOP
PROCEED WITH CAUTION
DETOUR
and
SLIPPERY WHEN WET.

The trouble is that it's hard to tell
from a safe distance
which sign a person is displaying
at any particular time,
and even those who are well versed
in the other romance languages
can become dazed, confused, 
tongue-tied, and disoriented when faced
with the daunting task of
translating the sign language of love.

The trick, of course, is not to think
about what's being said,
but what's behind what's being said.
If she says "See ya later"
does that mean later tonight,
later next week,
or later in another lifetime?
And if she says
"We should probably get together...sometime"
as she glides past you heading for the door,
should you hearken back to the Uncertainty Principle
which states that one cannot simultaneously
know the position and the path
of a moving object,
because you have a bead on her position
for the moment,
but can never be certain
of the path she will lead you down?

Do her eyes reveal the secrets of her soul,
or are they two black holes
sucking you into a time warp
where you will repeat the same mistakes you made yesterday?

Only your friendly neighborhood physicist would know.

So I bought this book on body language
that told me if a woman crosses her arms--
that's a negative sign...
but if she spreads her legs
THAT'S A POSITIVE ONE!

So I wrote that down.

Armed with this critical information
I felt confident enough to try my luck
in the world's most romantic city...


So I flew to Paris,
and found myself sitting at a sidewalk cafe
where I noticed a Frenchwoman 
giving me the goo-goo eyes
from a nearby table...

She smiled at me
and I smiled back at her
and she smiled back at me
and I said now here's somebody
who is speaking my language!

Then she got up and walked
right over to my table...

and right past my table...

and sat down with the woman
who was directly behind me
and just a tad to the left.

So I think I'm just as dense
as I ever was
about the sign language of love,
but I do know that you can't dance
forever
and somewhere along the way
somebody has got to commit to something
before you're both committed...
so knock three times on the ceiling if you want me--
twice upside my head with your purse if you don't want to know.

I'll get the picture.

AND SO IT WAS

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub










Dunno what the hell happened
to ol' Duke
who was the swarthiest of our little band
of outsiders
with hair blacker than used motor oil 
in that whitebread town
who would sit behind the girls
at the movie show
and chant just beneath his breath: piece o' butt...
piece o' butt...

Who one night when we sneaked onto the 
grounds of the high school
with Molotov cocktails in hand
lit one and flung it 
and the flaming projectile
bounced off the side of the brick building
and struck him in the back
and started his brand new jacket afire
and the rest of us cackled until we could
no longer catch our breath...

Who one night as I chauffeured  us
aimlessly around town 
in my cherry-red Ford that everybody recognized
we passed the movie theater
where we saw this big ugly brute 
named "Moose" loitering outside--
with his finger excavating his nasal cavity
and leaned out his window and shouted
"Pick you nose and wipe it on you suit!" 
and I sensed immediately that
somehow I would be the one to pay for that...

And so it was one night we were stopped
along a country road
chugging some beers
and who of all people came along
but Moose and company
and he grabbed me and growled:
YOU'RE the one who yelled
PICK YOU NOSE AND WIPE IT ON YOU SUIT
and I marveled at his exact recall of Duke's phraseology
all the while knowing it would do no good
to even try to explain
and getting shoved into that ditch 
didn't really hurt, man,
no...
not like conjuring up 
those beautiful images does now. 

INTERVIEW (with the vampire?)

Hey kids, for a little more  insight into my brain, (such as it is) check out the interview that Isadora Gruye conducted with me over at  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads! (Just scroll down a little ways until you see my smiling mug!)